I straddle on top of his lap. He smiles in the darkness. I can feel his excitement. He bites his lower lip as I dance around. I smirk, proud of the effect I had on him.
"I could be aggressive," he warns. I smile.
"Not as much as me," I say, gently wrapping my hand around his neck. The slow choke excites him.
"I know baby. I know," he responds airily. It's been a while since we've actually had fun.
That was back then, in the days where I played his side chick. Not that I minded. Regardless, I always saw his exhausted frown. He constantly yawned, not because he was bored, but because he was extremely over living. I noticed his mood deteriorate constantly. It was hard watching someone you care for break down slowly, but the fact that these slow changes weren't noticed until it was too late made me feel guilty.
Guilt. It's all my fault. Always. What's the point of being here? Another broken heart is not worth fighting for. I'm so done... broken... falling out of love... I can't be here anymore.
One thought spiraled into millions, each worse than the last. These thoughts could break anyone.
They certainly did a number on me.
He took his life. That moment was when I learned. Only one of us needed to stay in order for the story to go on.
I chose myself. He chose death. There was no point in feeling guilty any longer.
YOU ARE READING
passion
Romance~ loosely based on firsthand experiences of romance... ~ ~ not all are mine xxx ~ ~ names are masked to maintain secrecy ~ ~ enjoy reading my lovelies ~
